


Green the Roots of the Willow Brown

by MalevolentMagpie



Series: Beneath, the Roots of the Willow Green [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Vampire Diaries Fusion, BEGINNING OF WIDE-NET TAGS:, Blasphemy, Bloodplay, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Brother/Brother Incest, Cheating, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Cuckolding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Forced Voyeurism, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest, M/M, Netorare, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Possessive Sex, Public Sex, S&M, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, Soulmates, Top Keith (Voltron), Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampire Shiro (Voltron), Vampires, Violent Sex, but Shiro is low-key having the time of his fucking life, but really vampires just have a different threshold for excitement, if you had super healing then pain would be merely a fun pasttime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentMagpie/pseuds/MalevolentMagpie
Summary: The Vampire Diaries AU.Immortal vampire Shiro has returned to his hometown of Mystic Falls, drawn by the presence of the young human Curtis - the spitting image of his old lover, Adam. But true to form, his devilish rake of a brother, Keith, once more follows him to raise hell.Whycan't he leave Shiro alone?Satisfies Sheith Halloween 2020, Prompt Day: "Blood." In more ways than one...
Relationships: A practically platonic amount of Curtis/Shiro, Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Beneath, the Roots of the Willow Green [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942366
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Green the Roots of the Willow Brown

**Author's Note:**

> Part II of "Beneath, the Roots of the Willow Green." Published as a separate work because it is a wildly different rating. Beware the tags.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, [Damy](/users/NimDamy/), for helping me polish this up!

Dating Curtis was fun, easy, almost mind-numbingly simple after more than a century of his interpersonal life revolving mainly around a drama of literal epic proportions. It almost made him feel human again. Unfortunately, it also made him feel like a teenager again. It was so easy to forget his human years, sometimes - easier still to forget what it had been like to be a teenager, even if at the time the concept of teen age was yet to be discovered by society. He was remembering it with painful clarity, now. 

“-that I dated him first. How dare she? It’s in like, the Girl Code of Conduct: thou shall not date thy girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend. It’s not fair. Why is it always _her?_ She’s _everyone’s_ first choice!”

Shiro tried to tune out the inanity, but Romelle’s grating voice had a way of cutting through, right to his nerves.

A softer voice chimed in from his left. “Oh come on, Rommie - you two dated for like, two weeks back in June. The limit is at _least_ three weeks; anything below that is fair game, even to close friends. Right, Shiro?”

“Mm? Oh. Right, Curtis.” Shiro rubbed his temples and patiently counted the steps up the perfectly manicured front lawn that Romelle’s mother kept up to Stepford standards.

“Anyway, thanks for walking me home, boys. You know how my mom gets about me being on the streets after 10 o’clock. You sure you don’t wanna come inside for a bit? You still haven’t met our new exchange student!” She leaned in conspiratorially with a hand to the side of her mouth, her golden twin braids flopping forward as if to emphasize her point. “You didn’t hear it from me, but he’s drop-dead sexy. If I wasn’t sure he was 100% gay, I would’ve locked that down on the first _day._ Come on, come meet him! Come, come!”

In a heroic display of self-control, Shiro held back a long-suffering sigh. “Thanks but we’ll pass, Romelle. I still have to walk Curtis home. We’ll come by later this week to meet him, alright?” 

“Suit yourself!” she replied loudly, retreating into her house while exaggeratedly pointing indoors and mouthing, _‘Eye candy!’_

“She’s impossible,” Curtis chuckled as they neared his own house a few blocks later. It was a lovely little colonial ranch house painted sunshine yellow, complete with a trim yard girdled by a white picket fence. It suited Curtis. “Sorry this wasn’t much of a date tonight, with Romelle there.”

“It’s alright,” Shiro murmured absentmindedly. 

Across the street, the thick black shadows of a Carolina pine forest stretched up into the infinite night. The nearest neighbors were on either side of the ranch house, too far to see or hear much of anything through the dense darkness and humid heat of a Southern summer evening. At this hour, sight and sound narrowed down to only the moonlight and the cicadas, and the world felt so much closer. Private.

Shiro pulled Curtis in close outside his front door, relishing in that fragile warmth and in the fluttering beat of the boy’s heart, ignoring the part of himself that ached to exsanguinate him. Curtis was so… helpless. Shiro wanted to protect him. Maybe he didn’t love Curtis just yet, and maybe he still couldn’t quite disentangle his old attachment to Adam from whatever he felt for Curtis, but that would come with time, surely. This was... _something,_ and it was good. He wanted to keep this. For as long as he could keep it safe from Keith. 

It was easier said than done. His brother haunted his every step, his every thought. It was difficult to tell when he was actually there, lurking in the shadows, or when the ghost of his threat merely made it seem that he was. It felt as if every kiss he shared with Curtis, every embrace, Keith was watching, an uninvited third party. Shiro wished he could separate himself, his very sense of identity, from his brother’s existence, but Keith’s constant, conspicuous presence made that impossible. Sometimes Shiro wondered if it would perhaps be impossible regardless. It had been like this their entire immortal life: Shiro went somewhere, and Keith burst back into his life, calling attention to himself, demanding that Shiro address the problem. The problem being Keith.

“Shiro? Are you listening to me?” Curtis eyed him warily.

“What?”

“I said you could come up if you wanted to - Aunt Jenna’s out of town until Monday. Where were you? You looked like you spaced out for a minute there.”

“It’s… nothing. I was just thinking. Listen, did you receive the vervain bracelet I left for you?”

Curtis nodded earnestly, giving the impression of a lost puppy. “Yep! I’ll make sure I’m wearing it before I leave the house in the morning. Don’t worry, Keith isn’t going to be able to compel me to kiss him again. I don’t know why he keeps messing with me like this. I know he’s not actually _attracted_ to me in any way. Why does he hate me so much?”

“He’s... just teasing you. It’s his way of playing with humans. He especially likes it when they get flustered - he thinks it’s cute. It makes him want to make them suffer even more.”

At Curtis’ worried expression, Shiro quickly amended, “Seriously, don’t worry about it. He’s not going to do anything to you.”

“He said he wouldn’t think twice about breaking my neck, ripping out my innards, and feasting on my steaming flesh. You’re saying he doesn’t mean that?” 

“Uhh…” Shiro laughed nervously. “Yeah, yep, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Well alright, if you say so…” Curtis flashed an uncertain smile. He stood in place a minute more, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt as if waiting for something, but when it became clear that Shiro’s mind was elsewhere he cleared his throat again. “Then, I guess I’ll just head up? Goodnight, Shiro.” And after a sweet, innocent peck on the lips he disappeared inside the house. 

Shiro turned around to head back to the dark halls that had been the ancestral home of the Shirogane family since the town’s founding days, only to come face to face with a bored-looking Keith leaning back casually against the quaint, whitewashed railing of Curtis’ front porch. 

“I don’t mean it?” He drawled, inspecting his nails. They were suspiciously dark beneath the tips. 

“I know you do,” Shiro whispered. “But if you touch a single hair on his head, Keith, I swear to god-”

Keith was on him in a flash, pushing him up against the side of the house with the kind of strength Shiro couldn’t possibly hope to beat unless he allowed himself to once again drink human blood. “You were saying?” he hissed in Shiro’s ear. 

Shiro tried to suppress the shiver that ran through him. “I- Ok. I know. I know you’re stronger than me. But, please don’t hurt him, Keith. He’s important to me.”

Keith pressed harder against him, one leg pushing up between his thighs in a way that threatened to derail Shiro’s focus for the wrong (very, _very_ wrong) reasons. “It sounds like you really care about this little human. Maybe not even just because you want to play pretend and fuck Adam’s face. It’s so precious, really, how you haven’t even made it to third base. 170 years old and stuck holding hands with a snot-nosed brat. I wonder, does he know about this?” Keith hitched his leg higher, and Shiro realized that the first press had been no accident. Keith was doing it on _purpose._

“K- Keith-!”

“Does he know about our... brotherly history? Hm? Does he know what you and I have done in the dark of the night, when not even God was awake to witness?” He rolled his hips forward and Shiro held back an involuntary groan at the hard outline he felt against his hip. “Does he know what I’ve done with this body, how I’ve used it over and over for my own selfish satisfaction, until I was utterly spent and the days ran together? This body belongs to me. You belong to _me._ ” One hand reached down to cup and rub Shiro’s erection while Keith’s tongue traced patterns on Shiro’s neck.

“Keith no. This is wrong. We can’t-”

But Keith suddenly bit down on his shoulder, clenching hard around a mound of flesh and rearing back to rip it off, sending the chunk of meat and a spray of blood flying all over Curtis’ cozy colonial porch and part of Keith’s face. Shiro did moan, then, obscenely. All the while, Keith continued rubbing him through his jeans, and the pain and pleasure mixed once again into that heady cocktail that Shiro had tried so hard to forget for the past ten years. 

Keith rose up to kiss him, wild-eyed, feral. He was beautiful like this. Blood spatter covered half his face and his plush red lips. His pale skin and the dark liquid on it gleamed softly in the moonlight. Eagerly he attacked Shiro’s mouth, licking deep and letting Shiro taste his own metallic tang. 

Shiro gasped desperately back, digging his nails deep into Keith’s back and slicing through until he smelled the fresh, living aroma that was pure Keith, until he felt the warm liquid run between his fingers. His fangs unsheathed and he dove down onto Keith’s neck, tasting the bitter ambrosia there before suddenly turning his head and rending through the skin. Keith cried out and humped harder against his leg, fingers shaking as he opened the fly of his pants. Blood flowed freely from his neck now - not enough for him to bleed out, but enough to drench their clothes as the two pushed up against each other. 

Before Shiro could have another taste of his neck, his brother tore at his pants and hitched up Shiro’s exposed legs, letting out a grunt as he drove himself deep into Shiro, dry, without preamble or preparation. The pain was unbearable, and invigorating. Shiro screamed in ecstasy. 

He didn’t, therefore, notice the door opening until he heard a voice call out shakily, “...Shiro?”

Shiro’s head was foggy with pleasurable agony, but he registered Curtis standing a few steps away, face aghast at the grisly carnage of Shiro’s younger brother bending Shiro in half and rutting into him like a wild animal. What sort of face was he himself making, Shiro flippantly wondered. Curtis looked almost disgusted when he met Shiro’s gaze. It was then that Shiro realized he was moaning, moaning out his little brother’s name like a cheap whore as his body thumped rhythmically against the pastel-colored louver shutters of Curtis’ house. They shook and rattled with each of Keith’s thrusts; it was a wonder the whole neighborhood hadn’t already come out.

Keith turned his head, fierce and gorgeous, and smirked viciously when he locked eyes with Curtis while continuing to plunge into Shiro, as if claiming what was rightfully his. His features darkened, sclera glowing yellow as his fangs lengthened. Then he sank his teeth into Shiro’s jugular, and sucked and sucked, holding fast and drinking greedily through Shiro’s delirious encouragement. The rush of the bite zipped through Shiro’s body and he convulsed, coming with a gasp and Keith’s name on his lips. 

“Dear god,” Curtis whispered, repulsed, where he stood frozen in shock mere feet away. 

Still sheathed deep in his brother, Keith released Shiro’s neck, leveled a penetrating stare at Curtis, and bid him to come closer. 

Curtis’ eyes glazed over. He obeyed.

“Stay right there and do not move,” growled Keith. Shiro really should not have found the rasp in his voice as arousing as he did. His dick twitched anyway. “Watch carefully. I don’t want you to miss a single second of me taking what’s mine.” 

Keith grabbed Shiro’s hips then, and whirled him around, bending him over so his cheek and palms scraped painfully against the wall. The tattered remains of Shiro’s pants were quickly dispatched, and in their place Shiro felt the sharp scratch of Keith’s lengthened claws. He shivered from the memory of the threat and the promise they offered. 

Keith let his hand fly across his ass once, then twice, ignoring the whimper that Shiro let out. Then he speared Shiro on his cock again, thrusting savagely. Every few strokes, he would rake his claws across Shiro’s back, letting the blood flow, and each time Shiro would cry out for him to stop, to keep going, to give him more. All Shiro could hear beyond the wild rush of blood in his ears was the slap of skin on skin, and Keith’s vulgar grunts behind him. 

“Tell him who you really belong to!” Keith gritted out. “Scream it!”

“You, little brother! I belong to you!” Shiro cried, the nectar in his veins coming alive with the truth of it. Electric currents of pain shot through him, and his blood flew and splattered with each new gash that Keith struck across his back, and in it he tasted the bliss of eternity.

Keith’s ramming turned erratic: short, spastic stabs before he shoved himself one last time as deep into Shiro as he could go. Shiro wished he could feel the release coating his insides; he wanted to bathe himself in it and in Keith forever and ever. After what seemed like eons, Keith fell forward on ragged breath and both brothers basked in the closeness of the moment. Then Keith began gently licking closed the few scores he’d left on Shiro’s body that had not yet healed. He trailed soft kisses down his brother’s back as he pulled out. He rearranged what was left of Shiro’s clothes, and his own.

Shiro straightened to lean up against the wall, still panting, taking stock through the cloud of satisfaction and the lingering sting of his wounds. His clothes were ruined, he was absolutely drenched in blood, and his brother’s semen burned as it seeped over the healing internal tears and out of his ass. He felt wrecked, and better than he had for a long, long time.

Beside him, Keith tucked himself away and stepped towards Curtis. 

“You will forget you ever saw this, you will be unable to even share the thought of it with anyone or anything, but deep down you will _know_ , without a shadow of a doubt, that this _is_ the Shirogane brothers. That Takashi belongs to me alone: mind, heart, body, and soul. Do you understand?”

Curtis nodded lifelessly. “I understand.”

“Good!” Keith intoned with uncharacteristic cheeriness. “Now, march yourself back up to bed and in the morning clean up all this blood from the raccoon you caught sneaking around during the night.”

“Christ Keith, you’re gonna make him clean up the blood from his own boyfriend having sex with his brother right in front of him, on his own front porch?” said Shiro as Curtis walked back into the house.

“His boyfriend? I thought I had made my case pretty convincingly just now, Shiro.”

Shiro sighed. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, Keith. I know you’re just… stressed right now and need to take it out on something, and that’s fine. I’m happy to be that outlet for you, if you need it. I know it’s just-”

“What?! You-” Keith gawked in disbelief for a full minute, then started tugging at his hair and pacing back and forth on the porch. “You fucking _idiot_ . Just why exactly do you think I did this? _Stress relief?_ Shiro. Shiro. What the fuck are you talking about, Shiro. Why do you think I’ve followed you around our whole lives, getting in the way of any possible relationship or home you could build?”

“Because-”

“Because you won’t _look at me, Shiro!_ Look at me! Stop- stop searching for belonging in other people.”

“Keith, what are you saying? I haven’t been searching for- I just happened to find Curtis - it was fate, we’re meant to be. How could it just be a coincidence that he looks just like Adam? I mean-”

Keith was gesturing animatedly, more agitated than Shiro had ever seen him. “No. No! Forget Adam! Forget Curtis! It’s _me;_ don’t you see? _We’re_ the ones that are meant to be together for all eternity, why can’t you see that? It’s you and me, all our childhood, these past 150 years, it’s only ever been you and me, revolving around each other like twin suns. We can’t be apart; we’re just drawn back together through event after event, person after person. _We’re_ the constant. Takashi, please.” 

Shiro realized with a start that Keith was crying.

“Please,” said Keith. “Love me…”

“Keith…”

Keith slumped forward, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. And Shiro was there to catch him. Even as he cradled Keith in his arms, words wouldn’t come. After all, what could Shiro say to that? It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t trust Keith. That was just who Keith was. He told nothing but lies; he did nothing but betray the trust of those closest to him. But the tears freely flowing down Keith’s cheeks… He had not seen Keith like this since they were children: exposed, vulnerable. Keith didn’t show weakness to anyone. Yet here he was, looking almost broken. Tired. Guileless. There was an honesty and fragility in it that finally revealed to Shiro what he had so endlessly been missing, seeking, longing for: that innocent Keith, _his_ Keith, the Keith he knew. His sweet, devoted little brother who felt and loved so deeply and therefore hurt so deeply.

“There you are,” Shiro cooed. With a quiet touch, he swept back the dripping bangs to look into those deep blue eyes. “I found you.”

Keith blinked blearily back, but said nothing.

“Keith, of course I love you. Through it all, you still are and always will be my brother, no matter what.”

“No-”

Shiro shushed him softly. “Let me finish.” He wiped some of his blood from Keith’s chin. “How long have you felt like this?”

Whatever the answer was, Keith clearly thought the question unworthy of it. He scowled.

“What?”

“I’ve never known what it could possibly be like _not_ to feel like this, Shiro.”

“You mean, since we turned?”

Keith held his gaze with intensity. 

“...Before?” 

“Since I knew what attraction was. Since I could walk. Since I could _breathe_. Since I was the gleam in our father’s- mmf!”

“Ok, I get it,” Shiro managed with a gruff whisper, hand over Keith’s mouth. 

Keith pulled the hand off. “ _Do_ you? Do you actually get it now? I don’t love you like a brother, Shiro. I haven’t _fucked_ you through the centuries because I’m so goddamn devoted to our fraternal bond. I didn’t swallow your cum be-”

“Jesus Keith, please.”

“No! Fuck you! What exactly did you think all of that was?”

Shiro closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought. He hadn’t wanted to think about it. It would occasionally happen, and Shiro would reason it away, and then he would staunchly _refuse_ to think about it because if he did, if he asked himself for one moment to examine what it meant that he had eagerly let it happen not once, not twice, but so many times over the course of 160 years… 

“We’re brothers,” said Shiro, but he couldn’t bring himself to give the words any feeling, and his eyes desperately sought Keith’s with all the feelings he wasn’t yet prepared to put to words.

It was Keith though, his brother Keith, so of course he understood. He knew Shiro better than Shiro himself did. His sharp gaze grew tender at the edges. “We _are_ brothers,” he said, more gently this time. He sliced his wrist with one fang and offered it to Shiro. “And lovers. Bound souls. Two that are one, together, for eternity. Blood of my blood.”

There was no decision to be made, because there had never been one. There was only the truth, the most essential truth, ever constant, of Shiro and Keith’s shared existence. Shiro accepted the delicate pale wrist with a reverent touch. “Bone of my bone.” 

When he pressed his lips to the wound and drank, Keith gasped. Neither looked away from the other; it was as if the universe fell away and the only reality left was the tether of their shared gaze. 

“‘Til our Life shall be done.”

THE END.


End file.
